Leather and Lace (13 page)

Casey’s heart pounded until it ached, and the ability to speak escaped her lips. Finally she took a deep breath. She’d let Morgan set the tone between them, and she’d respond accordingly. The truth of her own emotions nearly staggered her. She had allowed this man to steal her heart.

“My, we’re forgetting our manners,” Jocelyn said. “Shawne, this is my son Morgan. He came in yesterday afternoon and plans to leave tomorrow, but not without a visit to the reverend and Sarah. “Morgan, this is Miss Shawne Flanagan. She takes care of Sarah.”

“And helps me, too,” the reverend said. “Thanks to Shawne, I’ve been able to return to my ministry and still have plenty of time to spend with Sarah.”

Morgan smiled, but she couldn’t bring herself to peer into his eyes. They can’t find out about me this way. Her commitment to Jesus and all that meant slapped against her mind like a wanted poster.

Jocelyn took her hand and squeezed it gently while Casey scrambled for composure. “I’ve already told him how special you’ve become to the church community during the short time you’ve been here.”

“Thank you.” Slowly Casey calmed and regained control of her senses.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Flanagan,” Morgan said with a slight curve of his lips. His words sounded flat, as though he forced himself to be cordial.

Uncertainty swirled around her. “I believe the compliments are exaggerated, but I do appreciate the kind words.”

Morgan hesitated, then a broad grin swept from ear to ear. “This is not fair, Shawne.” He turned to his family and the reverend. “The lady and I are friends.” He reached for her hand. No warmth. His touch matched his eyes. “I’m glad you’ve found a home.”

“I’m very happy to be in Kahlerville.” She mentally erected a wall between them. Her knees felt like jelly.

After all we went through, and Morgan is ashamed of me. Of course, could I really fault him . . . considering? What did she want Morgan to say? “Do you keep your guns under the bed at the parsonage?” Casey felt Jocelyn’s attention on her and feigned a smile. “Would you like coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Jocelyn said. “We simply want to visit with Sarah.”

“And to invite Shawne to our home next Sunday after church,” Bonnie said.

The reverend grinned. “Good. I was afraid Shawne might not get out and make friends. I gave her every Sunday afternoon and evening free, but yesterday she refused to leave the parsonage.”

Casey continued to smile, but her insides screamed in protest. She’d have to find an excuse to refuse the invitation.

“Perfect. We can ride home from church together,” Jocelyn said. The tall, slender woman was so kind. If only she knew the truth.

“But I really don’t want to leave Sarah.” All the while Casey felt Morgan’s scrutiny.

“I took care of her before you arrived, and I’m looking forward to it again,” the reverend said. “Now who would like to visit Sarah first?”

“May I?” Morgan said.

Thank you. Gives me time to pull myself together.

The other four sat in the parlor, and Casey attempted polite conversation. All the while, her mind raced with what Morgan had said to her before they parted in Vernal. He said the area between Austin and San Antonio was the prettiest part of Texas. She’d assumed that was where he lived, not here. Had he lied on purpose so she’d never invade his territory? And what of her past? Her lies? And his family wanted to befriend her? She thought her head would burst with all the problems stemming from her staying in Kahlerville.

I’m the outlaw. I’m the fool.

She remembered the decision she made yesterday for the Lord. How could life be so happy one minute and so horrible the next? She thought of asking God to help her again, but she was new at this prayer business. Maybe she had a limit—

“Shawne, are you all right?” the reverend said.

She startled and gave him her attention. “I’m sorry. Are you talking to me?”

Concern etched his face. “Jocelyn asked where you were from.”

That she could answer and not lie. “Missouri. My mother died about eight years ago.”

“I’m sorry. Is your father living?”

He’s a drunk. “I’m not sure, ma’am.” She felt herself redden. An awkward silence followed.

“We’ll have simply a wonderful time on Sunday,” Bonnie said. “Do you ride?”

Sidesaddle? “I have a horse at the livery.”

Bonnie clapped her hands, and she didn’t look a bit silly or childish. “We could fetch your horse after church, if you like. I can’t wait to show you our ranch. My other brother, Grant, might want to join us, but he’s quiet and won’t bother us.”

Casey nibbled at the inside of her mouth. That probably wasn’t proper ladylike behavior, either. When would this morning end?

“Sarah is anxious to see the rest of her visitors.” Morgan’s wide shoulders took the span of the parlor entrance. “We talked until I was afraid I’d wear her out.”

The reverend made his way to Morgan’s side. “Then let me join the two ladies so I can bid her good-bye before I leave for a few calls.”

Casey’s head pounded so hard that it hurt. She’d be alone with Morgan. He’d probably threaten to run her out of town. Dare she blame him? He was probably best friends with the sheriff.

“If Shawne doesn’t mind, I’d like to take a walk,” Morgan said. “It’s been awhile since we last spoke.”

Everyone looked to her for a response. She’d felt more comfortable facing a mountain cat. “That would be fine.”

Morgan opened the door, and the two walked into the sunshine. He favored his left leg. Memories. So many of them. “Warm already,” he said.

“Yes, and I think it’s getting hotter.”

“What was I supposed to do in there? I’m sorry, Cas—Shawne. Where did you come up with that name?”

She stiffened. “My middle and my mother’s maiden name. Look, Morgan, I had no idea you lived here. I can be gone in the morning.”

“I don’t want you to leave.” He rubbed his chin. Gone were the amber-colored whiskers.

“So you want an outlaw spending Sunday afternoon with your family and nursing the preacher’s wife in your hometown?”

He didn’t answer.

“I understand,” she said.

“No, you don’t. This is hard. Too many things you don’t understand.”

“So you still need me to find Jenkins? How do you plan to go about it this time?”

“I put that vendetta behind me.”

Casey stopped in the middle of the pathway. “I don’t believe you. Why?”

“I got right with the Lord.” His expression softened, and for a moment she lost herself in the depths of his turquoise eyes.

Despite her uneasiness, the thought of Morgan striving to live like God intended warmed her. “I’m very happy for you. I did the same yesterday.”

“Good. We’re both heading in the right direction.”

She glanced down at the grass beneath her feet. What should she say? All her fanciful thoughts about him seemed simpleminded. “You healed fine?”

“Thanks to you and Doc, this leg is getting better all the time.”

“I’m pleased.” Frustration inched through her. “How about the hole near your heart?”

“Guess I deserve that.” He pointed to the back of the house. “Do you mind if we walk there?”

She nodded and strolled beside him. Hadn’t she dreamed of seeing Morgan again, talking to him, having him so close that she could touch him? “Morgan, I’m wanted in more states than I can count, and Jenkins wants me dead. Every person I touch is in danger. I don’t want that for you, your family, or the reverend and Sarah. If you found me, so will the others. Even the sheriff said my face is familiar. It’s only time until he figures me out.”

“My family, my friends are precious to me,” he said.

The truth clung like a cold, damp morning. “Which is why I have to leave.”

“No.” He spoke so loudly she looked to see if others were watching. “I can’t let you go.”

“What am I supposed to do?” She raised her fist, then dropped it. Anger wouldn’t solve the problems between them.

“Stay here for a little while. We can work this out.”

Casey rubbed her shoulders. “I’d do better in Mexico.” She shook her head. “That’s not what I want to do at all. I want to clear my name, prove I didn’t do all those things slapped across those wanted posters—except the shooting in Billings.”

“I was there, remember? Let me help you.”

“How? You’re leaving tomorrow.”

Morgan shook his head. “I was heading out to find you.”

Bewilderment roared through her veins. She’d heard enough. Her life was filled with enough trouble without trying to figure out Morgan. “Are you a bounty hunter?”

He grabbed her shoulders. “No. And running won’t solve your problems.”

His hands on her ushered in memories of Jenkins—the times he’d hit her, bruised her. “Don’t touch me.” Her head roared in her ears. She gathered up her skirts and ran to the front of the house and up the porch steps. She turned the doorknob and stepped inside. Safe. She didn’t need Morgan. He most likely wasn’t any different from the others.

*****

Morgan waited in the wagon until his mother and Bonnie were ready to leave the parsonage. He wiped the sweat from his face. His chest ached. His leg throbbed. But the pain of watching Casey walk away hurt more. Those weeks laid up at Doc’s, those weeks trying to run down her trail, all he could think about was how she’d risked her life to save his. From the moment he’d shoved his rifle under her chin and seen her courage, he’d realized she possessed what most women never imagined. So strange when he considered what brought them together. The truth. The horror. He had to think, pray. Find answers.

On the way back to the ranch, Mama didn’t pressure him to talk, and Bonnie understood his bad temperament. Both of them had put up with his ill moods for the past four years. So had Grant. Looked like he needed to do a lot more changing.

Once he unhitched the wagon and turned the horse out to pasture, he led his mare, Twister, from the stall and saddled her up for a ride. Racing against the wind always helped relieve whatever worried him. A slight breeze stirred from the south and cooled his face.

“Where are you going?” Mama leaned against the top railing of the corral.

He loved her. She’d seen him through the worst of it. “I need to think.”

“Shawne is the girl you were going after.” She turned to face him. “What’s going on, Morgan?”

He clenched his jaw. “I can’t talk about it just yet.”

“Does it have anything to do with why you favor your left leg?”

“Nothing gets by you, does it?”

She smiled. “It came by me naturally when you, Bonnie, and Grant were born. Now are you going to talk to me?”

“Once things are sorted out.”

She patted Twister. “Love and hate almost destroyed you once. I saw what happened between you and Shawne today. Which will it be this time?”

“I’m praying God will carry me through.”

“Are you in trouble?” She moistened her lips. “Or is she?”

He swung up onto the saddle and grimaced at the strain on his leg. “Mama, I’m fine. Casey will be fine.”

Not a muscle moved in her face. “Are you leaving tomorrow?”

“No. I’m staying right here. I’ve changed, or have you forgotten? God will lead me in the right path.”

Mama’s eyes moistened. “But you have to let Him.”

*****

From her bedroom window, Casey stared out into the inky blackness of night. The outline of trees silhouetted against a silver slice of moon. Some folks feared what they couldn’t see. Others welcomed the opportunity to hide. Tonight she could relate to both. Her new faith said to fear nothing and to trust God. She shook her head. With her limited knowledge of the Bible, she imagined God had something to say about not putting people in danger. The law wanted her for crimes, most of which she hadn’t committed, and Jenkins wanted her because she refused to be his woman. Shouldn’t she be asking what God wanted?

Dare she leave the reverend to tend to Sarah alone? In the short time that Casey had been at the parsonage, she’d grown to love this woman of courage and faith. Leaving her would be difficult, and she’d lose her chance of making up for some of the things she’d done.

I like being needed by the Rainers. Makes me feel less dirty.

Tears filled her eyes, and she swiped them away. Morgan. Uncertainty was all she could muster. He’d spoken honestly. “My family, my friends are precious to me.” She didn’t know him at all, and always the unanswered questions plagued her like a case of poison ivy. He’d hated Jenkins and trailed him into the snow-covered mountains to find him. Then when danger struck, he’d led Casey away from the outlaws.

Morgan hinted at feelings for her, but what about those he loved? What about those she loved? The tears flowed more swiftly, and her stomach knotted. All of her reflections brought her to the same question. Should she leave and find another town to start over, save some money, and find a lawyer she could trust?

Oh God, I don’t know if You’re listening, but please tell me what to do. I’ve lost hope in trying to figure out what is going on here. Sometimes I wonder if I’m to turn myself in to Sheriff Kahler and face whatever a judge says. My life is a pigsty, and I keep wallowing in it. All I’ve ever known is running and hiding. I think it’s what I do best, but I despise it.

Casey opened her eyes from her prayer and blinked away the wetness. Did the urging inside her spirit mean God had provided an answer? It didn’t make sense, but she was fresh out of finding answers on her own.

Morgan couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t said the right things to Casey, and he wasn’t sure he could if he started all over. The wounds of his life weren’t healed. They still seeped with bitter memories. He craved a complete cleansing of his soul, but obviously God wanted him to learn something along the way. Every day he braved forward with one hand in God’s and the other grasping for peace. Forgiving Jenkins was the hardest thing he’d ever done. No longer did he burn with a passion to kill the outlaw, only that the man be stopped.

“God either takes away the ugliness in our lives or walks with us through it,” Mama had said on many occasions. For the first time, Morgan understood, and he firmly believed his spiritual journey included Casey.

What were the chances of the two of them ending up in the same place? He wasn’t a gambling man, but he understood the odds. God had purposed this for something, but what?

God, what do You want me to do? I beg You to stop Jenkins. I beg You to keep Casey safe. I beg You to guide me through this.

Casey would leave Kahlerville, and he’d never be able to find her again. His feelings for her made no sense, but they were there just the same. He craved the sound of her voice, to touch her red-brown hair and gaze into her wide blue eyes. A part of him longed for a life with Casey, no matter how crazy the thought.

The clock in the parlor chimed twice. He had to stop her, and that meant riding into town and keeping vigil over the parsonage. She’d leave before dawn—a remnant of her past.

Morgan swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. If she stayed, he could protect her from Jenkins and the law without folks finding out her identity.

“I want to clear my name, prove I didn’t do all those things slapped across those wanted posters.”

He had the resources to help, and it was about time he turned his profession into something good.

*****

Casey lit the lantern on the kitchen table. Soft shadows reached to the ceiling and cast a warm glow about the kitchen, as though welcoming her to the morning. She added kindling to the cookstove, then struck a match against the side. A small flame came to life, and she laid it atop the kindling. She blew on it gently, causing it to lick at the dry wood around it. The small task reminded her of the reverend’s Sunday evening sermon. He’d compared sin to a small fire that raged out of control.

Within minutes, the comforting scent of burning wood and the nutty aroma of coffee filled the room. She lifted the heavy iron skillet onto the stove to fry up bacon and eggs, and this morning she’d try her hand at biscuits. The reverend’s tasted wonderful, and he’d showed her how. This morning, she wanted to try mixing them herself. Besides, the sun hadn’t risen, and she needed to keep busy.

Midway through cooking sizzling bacon and kneading biscuit dough, she heard a knock at the kitchen door. Sensing the reverend might be needed, she dried her hands on her apron and opened the door. Morgan stood before her, hat in hand. She inwardly gasped.

“Good morning,” he said. “May I come in?”

Her gaze met his haunting stare. He would not see how her heart languished over the differences separating them. “Yes, of course. Is something wrong? Do I need to wake the reverend?”

He shifted from one foot to the other, clearly not the confident man she’d viewed in the past. “I came to see you.”

The logical side of her said to slam the door in his face.

“Please.” His clothes looked like he’d slept in them. “I have a few things to say.”

She moved from the door, and he stepped inside. “The coffee’s done, if you’d like a cup.” She determined to be pleasant.

“I could use something to get the cobwebs out of my head.”

Perhaps if you would answer my questions about Jenkins instead of leaving me to wonder.

He glanced about the kitchen while she poured the coffee. “Sure smells good. Would you like some help?”

“If that will make it easier for you to talk.”

“Remember the breakfast we had along the Green River?” he whispered.

She nodded, afraid to look at him. “You fished while I tried to figure out how I could get my guns back.” She picked up an extra apron.

He chuckled. “I had one eye on the fish and another one on you.”

How well she remembered that morning. “Would you like to break the eggs?” When he nodded, she tied the apron around his waist. Too close. She must not get this close. A longing to touch him crept through her, but she refused to give in. “The basket and bowl are sitting on the table.”

Morgan picked up an egg and tossed it in his palm. “I’m glad you’re still here. I was afraid you’d be gone before I got here.”

“I thought a lot about it, but for now I’m staying. What is it you want to say?” Her hand trembled.

“I make you nervous. You scare me to death, Cas—Shawne . . .” He hesitated and reached for her hand, but she drew it back. “I know my word is worthless. I can’t ask you to trust me when I haven’t given you any reason to. But I’m going to show you I’m a different man. Different from the one you met at your campsite in the mountains.”

Casey scrutinized every line on his face, afraid to believe him for fear of being hurt. “Trust you about what?”

“I’ve spent the night searching my soul for the right answers about you and me—and everything else. My mother frets over me when I should be taking care of her. I know what I am, and how I intimidate those I love. Grant is a fine man, but I can’t bring myself to tell him what an excellent job he’s doing with the ranch. Instead, I treat him like a schoolboy and criticize every one of his decisions.” He broke the egg into the bowl. “He runs the ranch better than I ever did. And poor Bonnie, I won’t let her grow up either. They need much more from me than they’re getting.”

He whirled around to face her. His jaw tightened. “I’m rambling on like a schoolboy. I’ve asked God to forgive me. Only He can mold me into a man of peace and integrity.” He picked up another egg. “Then there’s you and me.”

“I’m not a part of your life.” She cut perfectly rounded pieces of biscuit dough and placed them on a pan bathed in melted lard. If she dared to catch a glimpse of him, she’d relive the tears from the night before.

“But you are, whether you want to be or not. I want to help clear your name.”

The mere words caused her to shake. “How?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

She caught her breath. A hundred thoughts played through her mind. Why would a lawyer track down Jenkins? Best she keep that question to herself since her face was on so many wanted posters. “I never took you for a lawyer.” She shrugged. “Bounty hunter or lawman sounds reasonable. Besides, I don’t have the money to pay you.”

“I’m not asking for payment.”

“That’s the only way it can be.”

He peered into her face, then managed a laugh. “I think I’ve met my match. This bounty hunter, lawman, lawyer will name his price.”

His laughter caused a smile to tug at her lips. “And what will that be?”

“Time.”

“Time?”

“Yes. Accept my family’s invitation for Sunday, and let me . . .” He paused. “Let me ask the reverend’s permission to come courting.”

Casey could only stare, afraid to utter a word and afraid not to. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You know who I am, Morgan. You know my past. We can only speculate the future. I’d like to think I’m safe, but that’s craziness. But what you’re asking me is well, frightening.”

“For me, too.”

“I thought I recognized that voice,” the reverend said. “My, you’re here early, Morgan. Anything wrong?”

“No, sir. I’m visiting.”

“At five-thirty in the morning?”

Morgan took in a breath. “I had to talk to Shawne.”

Casey poured the reverend a cup of coffee. She added a dollop of cream and handed the reverend the steaming brew. Listening to Morgan sputter through why he was there nearly made her smile.

The reverend took a sip. “Are you trying to court my Shawne?”

Morgan’s eyes widened. “As a matter of fact . . .” He glanced at her. “I am.”

Hearing Morgan repeat his request made her shiver. Had they both turned into a pair of fools? Jenkins would kill them both, just like he had planned to do months ago.

The reverend cleared his throat, but she saw the merriment in his face. “Do you want this man to come courting, Shawne?”

She hadn’t formed an answer yet. All the confusion since she’d visited with Morgan the day before crowded around her. He’d help her in return for her spending time in his company. Like a real lady as if she weren’t an outlaw who knew more about living in the wilds than about keeping a home, more about horses and guns than about baking pies and cakes. As if a man might enjoy her company, might even think of her as pretty.

“I want to think about it.”

*****

The following Sunday morning, Casey fretted over her appearance and what to say. She even rehearsed conversations in front of the mirror. Jocelyn, Bonnie, Grant, and Morgan arrived at the parsonage shortly after the worship service. She glanced at Morgan, and he tossed her a smile. Good. She hadn’t spoken with him since Tuesday morning. She wanted him to come courting, but that invited feelings she didn’t know how to handle. My, but he looked handsome in a clean shirt and trousers. Even his boots shined like glass.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me leaving?” she said to the reverend for the third time.

“Nonsense.” He peeked under a towel-covered dish from a church member. “I stated in our original agreement that you were to have every Sunday afternoon and evening free.” He pointed a finger at her. “Now off with you, and don’t you dare return before dusk or after evenin’ church.”

Before she could deliberate further upon the matter, the Andrewses whisked her off to the buckboard. Morgan had ridden his horse, and Bonnie rode in the back of the wagon. Stampede trotted along behind the wagon, although Casey was the only who could handle the stallion.

She stole a peek at Grant, who urged a pair of dapper mares down the road. He didn’t look twenty years old yet, and with slightly deeper coloring than his mother and sister, he had the makings of a fine man. He resembled Morgan, except taller, and his almond-shaped eyes were green, not turquoise. Yet Casey noted his youth—his eagerness to embrace manhood, something Tim had once possessed and lost.

Rolling countryside with a choir of singing locusts and grasshoppers slowly led them to the ranch. Casey loved this country, rich and green in the heart of summer. Tall pine trees sometimes darkened the dirt road and then faded in bright sunlight. At first the deep groves of trees troubled her, for they brought back reminders of rough men, lying in wait for an unsuspecting traveler. But her companions remained at ease, and she forced herself to relax.

Out of habit, she touched her dress pocket where her derringer used to hide. Her strength needed to be in God, not in a weapon. Guns had a place and a purpose, but not pressed against her body like a lady’s corset.

The wagon stopped on a knoll where the landscape gave way to a breathtaking view of a valley below. Like a dream. Casey noted a large stone-and-frame farmhouse, a barn, several sheds, and a bunkhouse, all neatly kept. Beyond the buildings, a creek glistened in the sunlight like a satin ribbon winding through the valley.

The farm Casey remembered from her childhood had been a mixture of dirt and sweat. Nothing for her to miss. Nothing for her ever to want again. She never had enough to eat in winter and worked from sunrise to sunset during the spring, summer, and harvest.

Casey craned her neck to see the magnificent show of land. In the distance, specks of grazing horses and cattle sprinkled the fields—so many she couldn’t count them. “Is this your ranch?”

“Yes, it is,” Jocelyn said. “We call it the Double H. My late husband’s name was Hayden, and when we first homesteaded the land, I referred to it as Hayden’s Heaven. He liked the name so well that he chose the Double H as our brand. Together with Morgan, we cleared it and built our first home.” Jocelyn pointed. “See the cabin far off in the western corner? That was our original home and where Bonnie and Grant were born. We have hundreds of acres for grazing and just as many in heavy timber. If you look to the east, you can see hills and forests, untouched except to hunt and fish. My husband left a legacy of the land he loved, many acres for his children to raise their own families.”

“You are truly blessed,” Casey said, using one of Sarah’s words.

“You wouldn’t say ‘blessed’ if you had to get up before sunrise and work until the sun went down,” Grant said, then shoved a grin her way.

“But it’s yours.” Casey watched a horse race across the valley. “You must be very proud of it.”

“Oh, I am.” Grant narrowed his eyes. “When I’m not dog-tired.”

Bonnie poked him in the ribs, and they both laughed. “Try cooking for all of you. Ranch hands eat like horses! It’s a good thing Sheriff Kahler couldn’t come today. There wouldn’t have been enough food.”

Sheriff Kahler. Casey clenched her fists. Was Bonnie sweet on the town’s sheriff? She knew keeping company with these people was a mistake, and this proved it. She must have heard God wrong. Staying now invited a noose around her neck.

Morgan rode up alongside them. “Grant does a better job running this ranch than most men twice his age.”

Shock registered on Grant’s face, but an even wider grin replaced it. “Thanks.”

Once they arrived at the two-story home, the three women busily prepared the midday meal. Casey marveled at the homey feeling. Jocelyn sliced thick pieces of fresh bread, and layered smoked turkey in between. A pot of beans laden with bacon and onions had simmered on the cookstove since before sunup. Newly made applesauce, spiced with sweet-smelling cinnamon, topped the meal. She needed to learn how to cook something besides beans and corn bread. Every time she stirred up a batch of either, memories of the past crowded out the present.

Bonnie rang the dinner bell. Its clang broke the silence like unexpected rifle fire. Casey shivered in its wake and shoved the old haunts to the furthermost part of her mind. She felt leery of the rough looks from the hands trailing in to eat, but the men were polite and undoubtedly hungry, proving Bonnie’s statement.